


Past Tense

by deathtothecrows



Series: Aren Jäger [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gore, M/M, Multi, Other, cursing, i dont even know man, i was high on ryddolin while writing this leave me alone, im not kidding, like a lot, nonbianary character - Freeform, pete is such a babe don't get me started
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-01 22:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10202021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtothecrows/pseuds/deathtothecrows
Summary: The Hunter finds a protector worth protecting.





	1. Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Penumbra Podcast](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/272801) by Sophie Kraner and Kevin Vibert. 



> This is just a way to express my love for my current special interest. I may or may not continue it but I'm not good at that sort of thing so don't expect too much of me. This is going to be part of a collection for my OC Aren.  
> -Mattie

My skin shivered in adjustment to the surface weather. It was so very cold and so very red, yet it was warmer than the vast blackness of the space I was previously in. The ground was comprised of dust that felt fine and soft between my toes. The atmosphere was thin, made up mostly of Carbon Dioxide, with hints of Nitrogen and Oxygen. I let my lungs adjust and expand. The air smells harshly of dust and magnesium. In the distance I can just see specks of brown.

I walk.

* * *

The sky is purple by the time I finish my trek to the city. The plasma is thin here and I slip inside with ease. Instead of breathing Carbon I breath Oxygen and smoke, thick and harsh. My nose pick up on the alcohol and blood on the people around me. It burns a little and I walk on, closing my senses off carefully from the world.

* * *

The sky is black, the stars disappeared behind the floating mansions and the world is quiet. The emotions of the people around me settle. I take the wallets of a few pedestrians as I pass (only the ones who harbor guilty emotions) and take a flyer advertising a shared apartment building with guy who needs help paying the rent this month.

I walk to the place advertised, a bleak apartment building in a poorer part of the city. The room is on the tenth floor, room J13, and I knock. After about twenty seconds and some colorful language the advertiser opens the door as far as the old-fashioned chain will allow. I’m immediately hit by the smell of alcohol and the intense feelings of sadness and regret and anger. His mind is a jumble and his eyes, correction eye, is confused and dark. He begins to shut the door but I stop it with the palm of my hand and hold up the ad. The confusion turns to recognition and he takes the chain off the door to open it fully.

“What’s your name?” he asks and his voice is rough and low. His emotions shift and he is suspicious of me. For good reason I am sure, I did just show up to his house after all, a complete stranger.

“Aren Jäger, and yours?” I extend my hand and he takes it carefully. His hands are rough and scarred and warm in comparison to the temperature of the room, but not in comparison to my own corporeal form.

“Steel. Juno Steel,” he pulls his hand away and gestures to the couch, which smells rather suspicious, and looks rather soiled. 

We sit on opposite ends of the couch and take each other in. Juno wears an old ill-fitting shirt and the sleeves are long but I can see scars crossing his skin in uneven patterns. There’s a rather large scar on his nose and a dark eye-patch over his right eye. He looks to be about five and-a-half feet tall and well built. There are scars on his knuckles, so he probably works a job that includes a fair amount of hand-to-hand combat. There are dark bags under his eyes and he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

I can see his eyes looking me over too, pausing briefly at my eyes and hair and clothes, which are similar to old Earth clothes from the mid twenty-first century. A far cry from Mars’ modern fashion. He doesn’t say a word about it though and instead asks me if I want a drink.

* * *

We talk for a moment about payment and house rules and he shows me the rest of the apartment, which doesn’t include much. A bedroom, a tiny bath, a kitchen connecting to the main room which was where I would be sleeping. Then he gives me a key and I fall asleep on the couch.


	2. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sky is really big, don't you think?

I awoke the next morning to find that my new flatmate had yet to wake up. I could feel his emotions, dampened by the lulls of sleep. With little grace I stood and stretched, allowing my physical form to grow a few extra inches to accommodate for the length of time I would be in this city. The sky outside the window was a deep red in the light of the sunrise, both from the atmosphere of the planet - which I knew now to be Mars - and the sandstorm I could hear brewing on the horizon.

I take the few steps to the kitchen silently and open one of the cabinets, not expecting much. Surprisingly enough there is a small, unopened bag of Venusian coffee grounds (the baristas on Venus are known across dimensions for their excellent coffee) sitting next to a clearly unused stainless steel french press. I take them both out and prepare enough coffee for the two of us. The bag looks expensive and smells of someone familiar, but it is a stale scent and I can't quite place the memory.

After I’ve finished with the coffee I hear Juno stir and get up. His conscious mind floods me with the very compelling emotions of exhaustion and anger, and I have to push them to the back of my mind for fear of growing just as tired. He walks slowly out of the bedroom dressed only in boxers and seems surprised that I’m still here. Or maybe he forgot I was staying in the first place. The surprise only grows more prominent on his face as I hand him one of the mugs I’d found underneath a stack of newspapers on the bathroom counter. It had been holding what looked like dried out lipstick and a small piece of broken porcelain, so I'd had to clean it out first. 

He takes it graciously and mutters a ‘thank you’ before going to sit down on the couch next to a week old newspaper. I sit down beside him, leaving some distance between us. After a while he turns his body slightly to face me and speaks quietly, getting his words out with a sleepy drawl.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Are-”

“No I mean _who_ are you,” he gestures with his elbow at me, holding his coffee in both hands, “as a person.”

“You know, it’s been so long for me but I honestly still haven't found the answer.” I say, setting my cup down on the paper-littered coffee table.

“What do you mean, ‘It’s been so long?’”

“I just mean that for how long I've been alive I still haven't figured it out.”

He sighs and sips his coffee, then makes a face as it burns his tongue. "Well I wasn't asking for your sob story I was just asking what your morals were."

I nod. "Chaotic neutral." 

He gets up to get ice from the fridge and I hear him mumble, "It's too damn early for this."

It is now eight in the morning.

* * *

Before long he gets dressed into clothes that look like they're twenty-year-old and leaves, giving me a harsh warning and an attempt at stink eye before he closes the door. “If you steal or destroy anything I will know, and I will find you. I have resources.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I say, and smile.

He leaves scowling. 

I hope he knows that trying to give someone a stink eye doesn't work so well when you only have one eye to work with in the first place.

* * *

A little while later I’m sitting on the roof of the building trying to clear my mind. The streets are busy far down below and the noise is still so loud to my perceptive ears, but still it’s nice to hear something other than the dead of the void for a change. The air is fresher up here and it feels nice. I close my eyes and block out all the sounds, the smells, the thoughts. I just drift and there’s nothing in the world that bothers me.

* * *

 

Night falls after a full day of meditation and I crawl down the side of the building, returning to the tenth floor via rickety fire escape that could not be up to code. 

Juno is in the apartment, cooking in the tiny kitchen, and he doesn't see me come in until four minutes later when he turns around to grab a bowl. He yelps like an injured dog and his voice cracks. I laugh.

"Don't scare me like that, jeeze. You could've given me a heart attack!" he's clutching his shirt over where his chest is, eyes wide, "When did you get in here anyway? I didn't hear the door."

"Oh, I came in through the window sorry. It was a quicker entrance."

"whaT? How?" 

"I was up on the roof and it was too slow to take the elevator." 

His eye narrowed, but he only said, "You remind me of someone." and then handed me a bowl for the buttered pasta he'd made. 

Now typically I can last centuries without needing to eat, but it did smell good and It had been a few decades since my last meal, so I took the bowl and dished some up. We talked for a few hours, or I let him talk. I'm not one much for sharing about myself because when I do people tend to either want to lock me up and do experiments on me, or send me to a mental hospital. Anyway he had a fairly interesting life as far as I could tell, he was a PI who worked pretty big cases, and did fairly well for himself. Which is why I couldn't understand why he would need a roommate, especially with his track record, but every time I brought it up he would change the subject. Fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> I could use a beta on this if anyone is interested.


End file.
